


Closer

by Kitsune_no_Tora



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Rough Sex, unexpected items used as sex toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsune_no_Tora/pseuds/Kitsune_no_Tora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want to see and feel the animal you are, dear Angleterre."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme de-anon; cross-posting here due to recent crackdown on FanFiction.
> 
> Prompt: hetalia-kink . livejournal 15068 . html?thread=42793436#t42793436
> 
> (Recommended soundtrack and named after: Closer by Nine Inch Nails. BECAUSE IT JUST WORKS, OKAY? It came to mind while I was writing. XD)

.~.~.~.~.

England sighed, loosening his tie as he slid his key into the lock, the familiar click as it unlocked a welcome sound to his ears. The day had been an absolute nightmare, with America calling him every five seconds to ask him inane questions (or just to irritate him) and mountains of paperwork that just never seemed to lessen. His frustration had just mounted through the entire day until he had snapped at his bosses' secretary (she'd chastised him for knocking over one of the piles in anger) and been sent home early by said boss in a flurry of colorful words and gestures. He knew he'd have to apologize later, and he _did_ feel guilty for it now that he'd had the ride home to calm down, but at the moment all he wanted was a nice cup of tea and a book to absorb all his irritation.

Sliding in through the door and closing it behind him, England tossed his keys and briefcase on the table by the door and toed off his shoes, heading up the stairs with the intention of changing into more comfortable clothes. Once in his room he went straight for the closet, not paying attention to anything around him as he pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, turning momentarily to toss them on the bed.

" _Bonjour!_ ~"

" _Ahhhhhh!_ " England shrieked, dropping the clothes and jumping back in surprise, head cracking against the closet door with a bang. France merely chuckled, an alluring smirk playing on his lips as he shifted on the bed, the sheet—the only thing covering him, however slightly—sliding down his leg. He was reclined lazily, head propped up on an elbow and one knee bent, facing England as he twirled a thorn-less rose between his fingers, half its petals plucked and scattered around him on the bed.

"Ah, finally, you have arrived. I must say, being in this bed all alone for so long has given me quite the chill, could you be so kind as to help me warm up,  _Angleterre_?" France crooned, licking his lips seductively, and England just gaped at him like his brain had short-circuited.

"What— you— ...Frog! W-What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" England stammered once he managed to get over his initial shock, ignoring the dull throbbing his head now sported, clenching a fist at his side.

"What am I doing? Why, isn't it obvious,  _mon cher_? I have been waiting eagerly in your bed for you to get home, it has been rather lonely… won't you join me?" The smirk playing on France's lips only grew as England's face colored a rather becoming shade of red, his hands shaking slightly.

"W-What? No! Get out of my bed and put some clothes on this instant, you dirty frog!" England shot back, blush darkening even further when France ignored him in favor of dragging the mutilated rose down his chest, letting out a pleased noise when the soft petals touched his skin, blue eyes watching England's reaction intently.

"Make me," he purred as England's eyes followed the rose on its path down his body until it passed over the jut of his pelvis, the stem catching on the sheet draped over them and exposing him.

Bloody hell, he was burning those sheets. He'd never be able to look at them again without thinking of this. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at France with all his might, but the damned frog didn't seem perturbed in the least. He rolled over so that he was sprawled out on his back, shamelessly bringing the flower across his abdomen until the petals were brushing against his exposed genitals, his eyes never leaving the now trembling England as he sucked in a breath at the sensation.

"You've had a bad day,  _non_? Come; let me ease your stress…" France whispered alluringly, curling the fingers of his free hand in a beckoning motion as he continued to brush the flower against him with a small 'oooh'.

England stood teetering in his place, legs and other parts screaming at him to walk over there and teach France a lesson by pounding him into the mattress while the rational part of his mind screamed at him not to. He wasn't going to jump France. He wasn't going to jump France. He wasn't going to… oh, fuck it.

He was on the bed in a nanosecond, straddling his hips as he crashed their lips together with a feral growl. He bit and sucked and nipped at the Frenchman's lips, hand quickly fisting in his long blond locks and pulling on them roughly. France gasped, and England took the opportunity to plunder his mouth with his tongue, leaving no part untouched. France moaned into the kiss, which was swallowed eagerly by England as France tugged at his shirt roughly, pulling it out of his pants to snake his hands underneath. England hissed when France dragged his nails across his ribs, breaking the kiss to bite down on France's neck.

"Ah!" France shouted, wiggling and digging his nails into his flesh again. "Ow!  _Mon cher_ , is that really necessar—aaaah!" he cried out when England pulled on his hair again, yanking his head so he had better access to his neck.

"You… have the  _audacity_ … to break into my house… and lay naked in my bed…" England hissed as he bit a line down his neck and along his collarbone, leaving a trail of angry red and purple marks in his wake, "that deserves some sort of punishment, so I'm going to fuck you into the mattress like the whore that you are.  _Capiche_?" He looked up at France, daring him to say anything to the contrary with a glare that had in the past sent many nations running for their lives. He felt him suck in a breath at his words, just barely detecting the twitch of France's manhood under him. France sat up suddenly so that England was now sitting in his lap, crashing their mouths together as he gripped his hips with a bruising strength.

"Punish me, then," France growled into his mouth, teeth nipping painfully at his lips as daring hands quickly pulled open England's pants with the snap of a button and the ripping of the zipper. "I want to see and feel the animal you are, dear  _Angleterre_."

England shoved France back to the sheets with a snarl, pulling his shirt over his head before standing on the bed to pull his pants down, feet on either side of Francis' hips, smirking while he watched France enjoy the view. He pulled them down and shook them off with a twitch of his hips before stepping out of them, kicking them off to the side. He then leaned forward at the waist, crossing his arms with a leer. "Then you'd best be ready."

France grabbed his leg and pulled it forward, making England's knees buckle under him so he fell to his knees on top of him. "Whenever you are."

England delved for his nipples first, latching onto one with a hard suck while he pinched the other, biting down and twisting them roughly. France cried out, arching up as his arms flew around England, digging his fingers into the Englishman's shoulders. England grunted against the heaving chest in pain, biting and licking and teasing the nipples and the skin around them until they were hard and angry red. He traveled down, leaving marks as he went, hissing as France scratched at his back and pulled at his hair, the pain like electricity in his veins.

Without warning, he grabbed France by the shoulders and flipped him over, forcing his head into the sheets. France squeaked in surprise before dissolving into a moan as England grasped at his butt, fondling and pinching it, sampling its firmness.

"Such a nice arse…" England whispered, looming over France to pepper kisses and bites along the line of his backbone. As he did, something caught his eye, and he looked over, finding the rose relatively uncrushed on the bed near them. Grinning sinisterly as an idea came to mind, he snatched it up, sitting back on his haunches to give it a good appraisal before glancing back at France, still panting and sitting prone on his knees with his butt in the air.

Without a second thought he spread those cheeks and shoved it stem first into him.

"Ahhh! W-What are you doing, what did you just shove in me?" France demanded, trying to sit up so he could reach back and see what was, but England shoved him back down, pulling the flower out and pressing it back in. France hissed in discomfort, ass wiggling as his hips twitched.

"The rose," England responded nonchalantly, hungrily drinking in the sight of the stem disappearing inside of him, watching as the ring of muscle around it quivered and contracted around the stem as it slipped in and out at his discretion. He pressed it in all the way to the petals, groaning at how  _far_  into his body it went.

" _Mon dieu_ …" France groaned, now very glad he had thought to strip it of its thorns. He shook as the hard stem was moved inside of him, each bump and twist scratching at his insides in a way that was both painful and exhilarating, moaning loudly as the end of it brushed against his prostate. England shivered, his own erection twitching at the sounds he was making, quickening the pace he was thrusting the flower inside. France gasped and writhed, and England couldn't resist returning to marking his back and shoulders with red marks and hickeys. He pressed a finger in along with the rose, and then another, scissoring them as he continued to thrust it between them. France hissed painfully in response, only encouraging England further, who inserted a third finger and spread them wide. France whimpered, clutching the bedsheets until his knuckles turned white.

Deeming him stretched enough, England withdrew his fingers and spit into his hand, using it to slick himself down a little before pressing himself inside, leaving the rose where it was. France shouted, clawing at the bedsheets at the intrusion, and England groaned as he was clenched down upon, hard. The rose slipped out a little, rolling so that it was underneath England's cock, the petals brushing his balls and making him moan with delight.

Without waiting for any kind of signal from France, he pulled out and thrust back in, hands clawing at France's hips and leaving red marks in the shape of his fingers. France yelled out, clutching at the sheets with a grunt as England pounded into him, leaving him no room to do anything but let his mind be wiped blank by the pain and pleasure.

Then England shifted, his hand slipping as he lost his grip momentarily, and France screamed as his prostate was struck. England groaned when his muscles clamped down on him, so hard he thought he might break him in half, but then France relaxed a bit again and he thrust himself back in, the rose somehow still intact and brushing his balls with the softness of the petals with every movement. The pain starting to ebb away, France started pressing back to meet England's movements, whimpering at the feeling of being filled so fully as his sweet spot was struck over and over, washing his vision with white.

Feeling himself nearing completion, England reached around to roughly grab France's length, stroking it in time with each plunge, and France cried out again, his voice rising in a crescendo as the pleasure built. He came with one final cry, spurting into England's hand and the sheets, and England leaned into him, biting down as hard as he could onto the juncture of his neck and shoulder as he filled him to the brim. France slumped into the sheets, panting hard, and England just managed to hold himself up long enough to pull himself out with a small squelch, the rose coming out with him, covered in milky fluid. Tossing it off the bed with disgust, he himself collapsed into the sheets on his back, trying to regain his breath.

He gasped in surprise when he was suddenly shifted, France pulling him to him and ensnaring him in his arms. He struggled weakly, but France's arms were surprisingly resilient to his protests, and he gave up, enduring the cuddle. He looked up, and scowled when he found France's eyes closed, his breathing even in his sleep. Grumbling, he let his own eyes slide shut, exhaustion taking over and lulling him to sleep.

.~.~.~.~.


End file.
